The Hurricane Among the Black Fang
by Comedyfanatic
Summary: The epic tale of Legault, the legendary hurricane of the black fang. It explains his entire journey from him joining the black fang to his life after the war. All his crazy experiences are compiled into this one story. Please R&R, and enjoy!
1. The Recruiting

A Lone Wolf Among the Black Fang; Legault's Story

**A Lone Wolf Among the Black Fang; Legault's Story**

Many years ago, the Black Fang was recruiting men, willing or unwilling, to fight among their ranks of thieves and brigands. On this particular day, they happened to be searching for men on the coast of a small and isolated town in front of a lazy river. This is where our story starts…

"Attention!" barked the black fang sergeant as he paced before the long line of unenthusiastic men, each with his mind elsewhere. "I said, ATTENTION!" At this sudden remark the line of men sobered up and stood with their backs straight, paralyzed with fear.

"That's better…" hissed the sergeant. He walked along the ranks of fearful warriors, axe in hand, and examined each one with an expert eye. Occasionally he would jostle one of them to test their patience. He dragged several men forward and eyed each of them carefully. After a long and tense silence, he shouted, "Draw your weapons!" The men, still shivering with terror, complied uneasily.

"Now…" said the sergeant, "Which one of you want to try your skills first?" None of the men moved a muscle.

"Speak, damn you!" yelled the sergeant angrily. "Which of you will fight me?!"

The men stood there for a moment, before one of them hesitantly raised his hand and in a timid and meek voice said "I'll take you on."

"Good…" hissed the sergeant. He wasted no time in attacking his foe. His heavy axe whirled around his head as though it where as light as a feather and clashed violently with the trebling man's sword. Hesitantly, the man parried and counter attacked. With a scornful scoff the sergeant dodged the strike and proceeded to cleft his opponents sword in two, leaving him helpless. The sergeant grunted and said, "This one will do. But I need at least twenty-five men. Who else will challenge me?"

Eventually, over confident challengers began to arise from the crowd. Each of them was defeated and sent slinking off to their broken down homes in humiliation. After over an hour and a half only 2 spots remained. The sergeant issued a final challenge.

"Let any fool who thinks himself worthy of the black fang speak! May he step forward from the cover of his fellow cowards and challenge me!"

A bit of uneasy shifting surfaced in the ranks of the village soldiers. Suddenly a shout came from the top of the steep ledge overhanging the recruiting ground. It came from a young, purple haired man who leapt from his perch as he issued his challenge.

"I'll gladly fight you, just to get a bit of practice," said the man, drawing his sword as he said so. The sergeant was caught off-guard by the man's lively and sarcastic demeanor, but he soon regained his posture.

"Alright then, my young challenger, what is your name?" questioned the sergeant, his eyes focusing intently on the young man.

"My name is Legault," he replied. Slowly he began to circle his opponent. "But names aren't important on the field of battle."

"I like how you think boy. Now have at you!" shouted the sergeant as he lunged at Legault. He sidestepped and countered with surprising ease. The sergeant wheeled around, recovering from his wild attack, and blocked Legault's blow. He hardly saw the counter attack Legault had planned, which nicked his side and pierced his flesh. He gritted his teeth and lashed at Legault. The sergeant barraged Legault with a series of quick, effective slashes, eachof which Legault barely managed to counter. Finally, in a reverse spinning attack, the sergeant knocked the sword from Legault's hand and placed his axe at his throat.

"That was quite a display," panted the sergeant. He wiped his brow of the sweat that had formed on his balding head. "Welcome to the black fang." And with this he helped Legault up and yelled to his men; "Come on! We have enough men. Let's move on. Nergal expects us at noon and it's a four hour ride to our meeting place. Let's go!"

And just like that the hoard of riders galloped off into the distance with Legault among them, never to be seen in the coastal village again.


	2. The Making of the Black Fang

It had been a long and grueling 4 hours for Legault and the other newly excepted black fang members, particularly since they acted like pack mules. They carried supplies twice their own weight only to be rewarded with another load three times heavier than the last. Legault panted and sweated, and with his last rasping breath he swore that he would rise in the ranks of the black fang and force the work upon those who brought him down.

Finally they reached the dark and foreboding castle where they were to meet Nergal, the necromancer that controlled the entire black fang legion. Upon entry the warriors were practically forced to kneel at the feet of the dark lord. He cackled in return.

"Well then Muldor…" hissed Nergal. "Have you brought me a fresh crop?"

"Yes, my lord," replied the sergeant, bowing deeply as he did so. "They're all well trained and fit, with muscle to boot."

"Excellent…" said Nergal as he rapped his fingers on the arm of his throne. "I want to personally analyze each of their talents personally… send for Jaffar."

"Y-yes my liege," stammered Muldor. He stood up and bowed his head before walking down the hall to find the angel of death. After a few minutes he returned with a dark looking man who wore only black and a cloak that concealed his being. His only recognizable feature was his red hair, which was messy and un-kept. He stared blankly at the new recruits, his gaze penetrating their hearts, causing their breath to stick in their throats.

"Jaffar, I need you to… test the ability of our new allies," said Nergal, a slight grin spreading across his face. "You know what to do."

"Yes my lord," said Jaffar in a monotone voice. He drew two bloodstained daggers and readied himself for one-on-one combat.

"Muldor, tell them the rules," said Nergal, his voice commanding and without a doubt hostile.

"Yes my lord," replied Muldor. "The rules are simple. You must survive a full minute and a half in the ring with Jaffar, our most skilled assassin. If you can't last the full minute and a half… well, then you die." This got a terrible reaction from the recruits, including Legault. They talked amongst themselves and made a commotion.

"SILENCE!" Nergal bellowed, his voice shaking the rafters and quieting the soldiers. "You are members of the black fang now. You must show no fear. Now, who is prepared to gain honor or perish?"

A few hands reluctantly raised above the heads of the cowardly. One of them was Legault's.

"You!" yelled Nergal as he pointed to one of the weaker men who shivered at the very sound of his voice. "You fight first!" The man trembled and drew his sword. He stepped into the ring and tried to look brave, but Jaffar's solemn expression shattered his confidence and within thirty seconds he was on the floor with a pool of blood surrounding him.

"Next," said Jaffar as he wiped off his blood-drenched daggers and assumed his stance once again. Legault hesitantly stepped forward. He drew his weapon, a killing edge, and prepared for mortal combat. Jaffar made the first move and dashed in for a three strike combo. Legault barely managed to evade. He whirled around and locked daggers with Jaffar, whom, upon close inspection, was actually younger than Legault himself. Jaffar broke free from the clash and began slicing in quick, short strokes, each one well placed and deadly. Legault's only hope was to dodge. He weaved in and out of Jaffar's attack path, ducking and dodging as best he could. Finally, as he spun to avoid Jaffar's duel strike, he saw an opening. He took advantage of it and lashed out at Jaffar. But Jaffar was quicker than the pudgy sergeant, and so he easily avoided the slash and kicked Legault across the floor. Just as Jaffar was advancing on Legault, Muldor shouted "Time's up!" and Legault released a sigh of relief. He got up and matched Jaffar's piercing stare before moving to the safe side of the throne, where he was congratulated by Nergal. Only four others joined Legaultin the safe shadow of the throne. The others were tossed into body bags and hauled away into the desolate courtyard outside the castle.

Legault's wary eye detected Jaffar's movement and his hand instinctively reached for his dagger. He let it rest once he realized that Jaffar was only approaching the throne to talk to Nergal. He strided over to his master and kneeled on one knee. He beckoned for the others to do the same.

"Rise," boomed Nergal, his voice echoing through the hall. He stood up and looked at the five remaining men. He sighed and said "Worthy recruits of the coast, I grant you the title of black fang warriors."

Legault felt a rush of excitement as Nergal continued talking about the history of the black fang warriors and their ancestors. He wasn't even listening, he just focused on his new title; black fang warrior.


End file.
